tihvaty  of  Che  trheolo^ical  ^tminaxy 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate  of  the 
Rev.  John  B.  Wledinger 


(Boob  ifriba?  Hbbrcaee^ 

George  flotiges 

Bean  of  tbe  Bplscopal  c:bcoloafcal 
Scbool  at  CambriDge 

4< 


ur  rn/ 


MAR   2   IS48  , 


•Wew  l^ocft 

xrbomas  Mbtttaftcr 

2^3  mtflc  f)0U6e 


aopsciflbt,  X90^f  D^  ^bomas  mbittaftec 


A.  G.  SHERWOOD   4   CO. 
PRINTERS.         NEW  YORK 


Contents, 

Introbuctorp  a&^re00    .    .    , 

,    .     I 

tTbe  ]fir0t  Mori) 

.     9 

^bc  SeconMHilorb    .    .    .    , 

.    19 

^be  ^birl»  Mor& 

.   29 

ZCbe  yourtb  MorJ» 

,    .   39 

ilbe  fiftb  ;Wor5 

.  49 

^be  Siitb  Mort) 

.   59 

^be  Seventb  Mor5  .    .    .    , 

.    .  69 

Zhc  [preface 

LITTLE  book  of  Good  Fri- 
day meditations,  which  was 
first  published  in  1889,  is 
here  rewritten  and  enlarged. 
It  has  grown  naturally  into 
its  present  form  through  the  experiences  of 
a  dozen  years,  during  which  it  has  been 
used  many  times;  each  time  with  changes, 
sometimes  by  subtraction,  more  often  by 
addition.  It  will  be  recognized  by  congre- 
gations in  Calvary  Church,  Pittsburgh,  and 
Calvary  Church,  New  York,  and,  more  es- 
pecially, in  St.  John's  Memorial  Chapel, 
Cambridge. 

At  its  first  appearance,  it  was  dedicated 
to  Boyd  Vincent,  whom  I  had  served 
for  nearly  eight  years  as  curate,  and  who 
in  that  year  became  bishop  coadjutor  of 
the  diocese  of  Southern  Ohio;  and  was 
accompanied  by  a  selection  of  scripture 
readings  made  by  Laurens  M'Lure,  who 
was  at  that  time  associated  with  me  in 
Pittsburgh,  now  rector  of  St.  Thomas' 
Church,  Verona,  Penn.  These  two  names 
of  constant  friends  whose  afifection  I  value 

vu 


Ipteface 

still  as  much  as  ever  I  did,  and  more,  I 
would  still  keep  in  the  book,  and  to  them 
both  I  dedicate  it  anew  with  love  and 
gratitude. 

George  Hodges 

The  Deanery,  Cambridge 

The  Feast  of  the  Annunciation, 

1904 


Unttobuctor^  Ebbress 


f  ntrobuctor^  Hbbress 

I. 

ET  us  remember,  as  we 
meet,  how  he  promised  to  be 
with  us.  The  Lord,  whose 
suffering  and  death  for  our 
sake  we  have  in  devout 
memory  this  day,  is  here  beside  us.  The 
words]  which  we  speak  are  spoken  in  his 
hearing.  May  he  forgive  whatever  is  said 
in  ignorance,  whatever  is  mistaken;  and 
may  he  bless  this  service  to  the  deepening 
of  our  affection,  and  to  the  praise  and 
glory  of  his  holy  name.  The  thoughts  of 
our  hearts  are  known  to  him:  all  our  dis- 
tractions, our  petty  interruptions,  all  our 
wandering  interests,  all  our  weariness  and 
coldness,  he  perceives.  May  he,  in  his 
great  sympathy  and  charity  and  perfect 
understanding  of  us,  pardon  and  assist 
and  bless  us. 

We  meet  as  of  old  they  met  the  Master, 

crowding  about  him  and  touching  him,  — 

yet  not  all.  Only  one,  there  in  Capernaum, 

so  touched  him  as  to  be  healed  by  him. 

We  hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  as  they 

3 


1fntrobuctori2  Hbbress 

heard  it  once  in  Jericho.  This  hour,  even 
as  then,  and  here  even  as  there,  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  passeth  by.  There  must  have 
been  many  blind  men  in  Jericho;  but  only 
one  of  them  drew  near,  and  cried  for  help, 
and  received  his  sight. 

We  look  to-day  upon  the  Crucified,  as 
they  looked  who  were  assembled  at  the 
cross.  They  all  saw  the  same  sight.  Jesus 
Christ  was  set  forth,  crucified  among  them. 
And  the  words  which  we  have  met  this 
hour  to  hear,  they  all  heard.  They  saw 
alike,  and  heard  alike.  But  some  were 
intent  upon  their  gain,  and  were  throwing 
dice  for  his  garments ;  and  some  had  their 
hearts  so  full  of  bigotry  that  there  was 
no  room  for  a  good,  compassionate,  fra- 
ternal thought  even  to  crowd  in,  and  they 
looked  on,  having  not  the  faintest  under- 
standing of  the  meaning  of  the  sight;  and 
some  were  there  professionally  and  form- 
ally, to  whom  crucifixion  was  an  event  of 
common  happening, — they  saw  and  heard, 
and  heeded  little;  they  only  wondered 
when  it  would  be  over  and  they  could  go ; 
4 


IFntrobuctor^  Hbbress 

some  who  were  there  were  cowards  and 
some  were  curious  folk  come  to  look  on. 
Only  one  that  day  was  turned  from  dark- 
ness to  the  light.  At  least,  we  know  of 
only  one. 

God  is  always  waiting  to  be  gracious. 
He  is  always  ready  to  help  and  bless  and 
counsel  and  comfort  us.  His  hand  is  out- 
stretched; it  is  we  who  hold  our  hands 
back.  God  does  not  give  us  the  gift  of  his 
grace,  unless  we  meet  his  hand  with  ours. 
The  woman  at  Capernaum,  the  blind  man 
at  Jericho,  the  malefactor  at  Calvary,  — 
they  held  out  their  hands,  and  God  made 
them  rich.  The  others  came  poor,  and  went 
away  poor.  The  fault  was  in  them. 

Here  we  kneel  before  the  cross.  With 
shut  eyes  we  see  him  who  is  invisible. 
Truly  he  is  here;  truly  he  is  amongst  us, 
as  he  said.  The  hands  which  as  on  this 
day  were  outstretched  on  the  cross,  are  ex- 
tended now  to  us,  in  invitation  and  in  bene- 
diction. He  will  bless  us,  if  we  will  be  blessed. 

The  open  heart,  the  devout  mind,  the 
upward  look,  the  lowly,  reverent,  receptive 

5 


Ifntrobuctor^  Hbbress 

spirit,  we  must  have.  God  can  not  bless  us 
unless  we  let  him,  unless  we  open  our 
hearts  to  him.  Let  us  do  that  now.  Be 
still,  all  that  distracts  and  disquiets;  be 
still,  all  that  would  speak  of  the  world 
without  or  of  self  within.  So  shall  we  hear 
the  divine  voice  speaking  in  the  silence  to 
our  souls. 

II. 

The  years  roll  back.  The  walls  fall  away. 
Over  our  head  is  the  sky  of  the  Holy  Land ; 
beneath  our  feet  is  the  place  called  Gol- 
gotha. We  look  behind  us,  and  there  is 
the  Jerusalem  wall,  and  the  gate  through 
which  we  have  just  come,  following  the 
procession  in  the  midst  of  which  the  Mas- 
ter walked  bearing  his  cross.  Thus  they  led 
him  out,  as  for  ages,  in  symbol  of  this 
day,  "  the  bodies  of  those  beasts,  whose 
blood  is  brought  into  the  sanctuary  by  the 
high  priest  for  sin,  [have  been]  burned 
without  the  camp;  wherefore  Jesus  also, 
that  he  might  sanctify  the  people  with  his 
own  blood,  suffered  without  the  gate."  We 
6 


1  ntrobuctor^  Hbbress 

look  before  us,  and  there  is  the  cross,  and 
upon  the  cross,  the  Crucified.  Let  us  try 
to  realize  that  scene.  Let  us  be  there,  not 
here.  Let  us  be  blind  and  deaf  for  a  little 
while  to  all  else.  We  are,  indeed,  afar  off. 
Almost  all  of  those  who  loved  him  were 
afar  off  that  day.  And  we  see  but  dimly. 
But  we  do  see.  There  is  the  crowd  of  in- 
different and  hostile  folk  about  him, — 
soldiers  in  armor,  idlers  from  the  city,  the 
man  with  the  ladder,  the  man  with  the 
nails  and  hammer,  Pharisees  and  scribes, 
—  and  in  the  midst  is  the  cross,  and  on 
either  side  a  cross;  and  on  the  middle 
cross,  his  head  crowned  with  thorns,  a 
mocking  inscription  written  above  him, 
his  hands  outstretched  nailed  to  the  beam, 
is  he  who  for  our  sake  is  enduring  all  the 
shame  and  pain,  he  whom  we  love.  Thus  ^ 
we  kneel  as  if  the  sacred,  blood-stained 
cross  were  indeed  plain  in  our  sight,  and 
we  look  into  his  face. 

The  blessed  Saviour,  who  as  on  this  day 
did  endure  the  trial  and  the  mocking,  the 
shame  and  the  smiting;  who  was  betrayed 

7 


ITnttobuctor^  Hbbress 

and  forsaken,  who  was  scourged  and 
crowned  with  thorns,  who  hung  upon  the 
bitter  cross,  —  may  he  help  us  and  bless 
us,  as  we  watch  with  him  this  hour. 

Darkness  was  over  all  the  earth;  dark- 
ness is  in  our  hearts,  the  darkness  of  un- 
belief, of  indifference,  of  worldliness,  of 
sin,  —  may  he,  the  Light,  enlighten  us. 

His  hands  and  feet  were  sore  and  bleed- 
ing, pierced  with  nails, — may  we  this  hour 
consecrate  our  hands  to  minister  unto  him, 
and  our  feet  to  walk  in  the  straight  way 
of  his  commandments. 

Let  us  kneel,  and  each  in  the  silence 
think  of  that  scene  until  it  is  plain  and 
real.  Let  us  join  the  little  company  of 
loving  and  faithful  disciples  who  from  afar 
behold  it.  Let  us  look  into  the  face  of 
Jesus,  and  make  our  hearts  ready  to  hear 
what  he  shall  speak. 


8 


Zbc  first  Morb 


I. 

UR  Lord  had  had  no  food 
and  no  sleep.  At  midnight  \ 
the  crowd  had  seized  him, 
and  since  then  there  had 
been  no  rest  for  him  in 
body  or  mind.  He  was  walking  in  the  way 
of  sorrows. 

He  had  been  given  up  into  the  hands  of 
his  enemies  by  one  of  his  own  friends,  I 
who  had  betrayed  him  with  a  kiss.  An- 
other follower  and  friend,  a  confidential 
friend,  whom  he  had  brought  nearer  to 
him  than  most  of  the  others,  and  who  had 
been  more  outspoken  and  earnest  than 
any  of  them  in  his  professions  of  loyalty, 
and  had  declared  that  though  all  should 
forsake  him,  yet  would  he  never  forsake 
him,  he  would  die  first,  he  said, — this 
friend  had  protested,  even  with  cursing 
and  swearing,  that  he  had  never  so  much 
as  seen  him  before.  And  Jesus  had  heard 
the  hard  words  of  denial.  All  had  turned 
against  him.  The  wealth,  the  dignity, 
the  power,  the  learning,  even  the  reli- 

II 


Zhc  Cross  anb  passion 

gion  of  his  day  had  joined  in  the  assault. 
And  the  common  people,  the  working  folk, 
for  whose  sake  he  had  denied  himself  all 
rest  and  comfort,  among  whom  he  had 
gone  about  doing  good,  whose  friend  and 
advocate  he  was,  —  they  had  had  their 
choice  between  him  and  a  common  repro- 
bate, a  murderer,  and  had  chosen  the  mur- 
derer. Of  those  who  steadfastly  loved  him, 
some  stood  silent  and  afraid  afar  off,  and 
all  the  others  had  forsaken  him  and  fled. 
Where  were  the  sick  to  whom  he  had 
given  health,  and  the  blind  to  whom  he 
had  restored  sight?  Where  were  the  lame 
whom  he  had  made  to  walk?  Where  were 
those  whom  he  had  raised  even  from  the 
dead  ?  Not  one  stood  beside  him.  He  was 
left  alone. 

And,  being  alone,  there  had  fallen  to 
him  the  lot  of  the  friendless.  No  man 
cared  for  him,  no  man  defended  him. 
The  officer  of  the  high  priest  might  smite 
him  with  a  rod ;  the  soldiers  might  make  a 
mock  of  him,  and  dress  him  in  garments 
of  derision,  and  make  him  the  victim  of 

12 


trbe  first  Morb 

their  coarse  and  brutal  jesting;  even  the 
slaves  might  strike  him  with  the  palms  of 
their  hands,  and  spit  upon  him;  Herod 
might  laugh  and  set  him  at  naught;  Pilate 
might  have  him  scourged. 

Thus  had  passed  the  slow  hours  of  the 
early  morning. 

At  last,  at  nine  o'clock,  fainting  under 
the  burden  of  the  cross,  Simon  the  Cyre- 
nian  helping  him  to  carry  it,  before  him 
an  officer  bearing  on  a  white  board  the 
writing  of  his  accusation,  on  either  side  a 
condemned  malefactor,  and,  following  be- 
hind, the  curious  crowd  of  enemies,  he 
reached  the  place  of  crucifixion.  The  cross 
was  laid  upon  the  ground.  His  hands  and 
feet  were  nailed  to  it  with  great  spikes. 
Those  gentle  hands,  which  had  been  laid 
so  tenderly  upon  all  sick  and  sorrowing 
people,  and  the  feet,  weary  with  going 
about  doing  good,  —  thus  they  pierced 
them.  Then  the  cross,  bearing  the  Cruci- 
fied, was  lifted  up  and  thrust  heavily  into 
the  earth.  It  was  a  moment  of  supreme 
torture.  At  this   moment,  the  crucified 


^be  Cross  anb  passion 

malefactors  on  either  side,  if  they  followed 
the  fashion  of  their  kind,  broke  out  into 
fierce  and  bitter  cries,  cursing  and  blas- 
pheming. At  this  moment  Jesus  ^oke. 
He  had  long  been  silent.  As  a  sheep  be- 
fore her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  opened  he 
not  his  mouth.  He  had  kept  still  silence, 
—  a  silence  so  marked  and  singular,  so 
stern  and  sorrowful,  that  it  amazed  Pilate. 
At  last  he  spoke :  — 

**  ffatber,  forgive  tbem,  tor  tbe^  Moxo 
notwbattbe^  bo/' 

n. 

Forgiveness  is  distinctively  a  Christian 
virtue.  It  is  one  of  those  higher  graces 
which  make  a  difference  between  Chris- 
tianity and  all  heathen  religions.  It  is  not 
natural  to  forgive.  It  is  more  natural  to 
hate  and  to  revenge.jThe  Indian,  the  Arab, 
the  savage,  will  lay  up  an  injury  in  his 
heart,  and  visit  it,  when  he  has  opportu- 
nity and  power,  upon  the  head  of  his 
enemy.  We  show  our  kinship  with  these 
lower  orders  of  man  when  we  harbor 
14 


Zbc  first  Morb 

hatred.  Something  of  the  barbarian  lurks 
in  our  veins.  He  who  hates  his  brother,  is, 
thus  far,  a  heathen  and  a  savage. 

Our  Lord  said  plainly  that  it  is  not 
natural  to  forgive.  But  he  came  that  he 
might  lift  us  above  the  passions  of  our 
lower  nature.  He  came  to  save  us  from 
whatever  is  coarse  and  brutal  and  savage 
in  us,  and  to  make  us  men,  to  make  us 
sons  of  God.  He  said  plainly  that  the  pub- 
licans and  sinners  love  those  only  who 
love  them,  but  he  said  also  that  that  shall 
not  be  so  of  any  of  his  true  disciples.  He 
set  that  difference  as  one  of  the  tests  of 
our  religion. 

Forgiveness  is  not  only  a  Christian  vir- 
tue, but  it  is  chief  among  the  character- 
istics of  true  Christianity.  It  is  written 
among  the  Commandments:  Jesus  said 
that  the  words,  "  Thou  shalt  do  no  mur- 
der," forbid  all  imfraternal  thoughts.  It  is 
in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  where  we  pray  that 
God  may  forgive  us  in  the  same  proportion 
in  which  we  forgive  others.  We  ask  God 
then  to  endure  our  faults  and  infirmities 

15 


XTbe  Cross  anb  passion 

only  so  far  as  we  bear  with  the  faults  and 
infirmities  of  our  brethren.  Forgive  me,  as 
I  forgive  my  brother.  If  I  hate  him,  do 
thou  hate  me.  If  I  turn  from  him,  turn 
thou  from  me.  If  I  content  myself  with 
silent  dislike  and  avoidance,  do  thou,  0 
Lord,  dislike  and  avoid  and  forget  me.  As 
I  feel  toward  him  who  has  offended  me, 
so,  0  Heavenly  Father,  feel,  I  pray  thee, 
towards  me,  who  have  tenfold  more  of- 
fended thee.  That  is  what  the  Lord's 
Prayer  means. 

Forgiveness  is  also  in  the  creed.  "Cru- 
cified, dead  and  buried,"  —  he  for  us  his 
enemies,  in  the  face  of  our  offences,  was 
content  to  die.  He  who  taught,  by  precept 
and  by  parable,  the  brotherhood  of  man 
and  the  religion  whose  alphabet  is  love, 
teaches  that  lesson  here  by  his  example. 

Behold  him,  loving  and  forgiving;  his 
enemies  are  all  about  him,  hating  him 
without  a  cause,  unjust,  unmerciful,  re- 
turning curses  for  blessings,  intent  upon 
his  shame  and  suffering  and  death;  not 
one  thing  is  wanting  which  can  make 
i6 


XTbe  first  Morb 

enmity  fierce  and  injury  unpardonable ;  be- 
hold him,  looking  out  over  that  crowd  of 
mocking  and  hostile  faces,  and  forgiving 
them,  not  willing  yet  to  put  them  out  of 
his  heart,  praying  for  their  forgiveness, 
loving  them  in  spite  of  themselves. 

Forgiveness  is  not  an  act  of  unreason- 
ing obedience.  Even  if  it  were,  we  ought 
to  be  willing  to  forgive.  Had  he  who  died 
upon  the  cross  said,  "I  want  you  to  for- 
give," and  never  a  word  more,  that  would 
be  enough.  Had  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to 
do  it  for  my  sake.  Do  it  without  any  rea- 
son, or  in  the  face  of  reason,  because  I 
ask  you,"  we  ought  to  be  glad  to  forgive. 
But  he  gives  a  reason.  He  himself  forgives 
because,  as  he  says,  they  know  not  what 
they  do. 

We  know  not  what  we  do  when  we 
commit  sin  against  God.  We  know  not 
how  we  injure  our  own  nature.  We  know 
not  how  we  influence  our  brother  to  his 
hurt.  We  know  not  how  we  grieve  the 
heart  of  God. 

They  who  offend  us  know  not  what  they 

17 


XTbe  Cross  anb  passion 

do.  Often  they  have  no  such  intention  as 
we  imagine;  still  more  often  there  is  a 
misunderstanding  at  the  heart  of  it  all. 
Sometimes  the  trouble  is  not  so  much  with 
our  neighbor  as  with  ourselves,  who  are 
unduly  sensitive.  Here  for  our  example  is 
the  Master,  suffering  at  the  hands  of  those 
who  hate  him  even  to  the  extremity  of 
death,  and  yet  making  all  possible  allow- 
ance, saying,  "  They  know  not  what  they 
do." 

The  first  lesson  from  the  cross  is  plain 
enough:  it  is  the  lesson  of  forgiveness. 
Let  us  now  in  silence  apply  it  as  we  each 
have  need  to  our  own  life. 


i8 


Zhc  Seconb  Morb 


V 


^be  Seconb  Morb 


I. 

T  was  written  of  our  Lord 
that  he  should  be  numbered 
with  the  transgressors.  So  he 
was  in  Bethlehem,  when  he 
took  upon  him  the  nature 
of  sinful  man ;  so  he  was  in  Gethsemane, 
when  he  drank  the  cup  of  the  bitterness 
of  our  transgressions.  And  in  his  cruci- 
fixion it  was  pictured  so  that  the  dullest 
might  understand  it,  in  the  position  of  the 
cross.  Jesus  was  crucified  between  two 
thieves. 

The  agony  of  the  cross  grew  every  hour 
more  bitter.  The  strained  attitude,  the  hot 
sun  and  wind,  the  festering  wounds, 
freighted  each  moment  with  a  burden  of 
pain  which  constantly  grew  heavier.  They 
offered  him  an  opiate,  such  as  they  were 
accustomed  to  give  to  crucified  persons  to 
deaden  the  agony,  —  wine  mingled  with 
myrrh.  But  he  refused  it.  He  would  have 
his  mind  clear. 

The  mental  distress  of  the  crucifixion 
was  still  harder  to  bear.  The  cross  was 

21 


^be  Cross  anb  passion 

low;  the  Crucified  hung  near  the  ground, 
withm  reach  of  smiting  and  spitting.  Over 
the  head  of  Jesus  was  written  his  accusa- 
tion: "This  is  the  king  of  the  Jews."  It 
was  a  mocking  sentence  and  provoked  the 
derision  of  the  crowd. 

The  inscription  was  written  in  three  lan- 
guages, in  Latin  and  Greek  and  Hebrew. 
These  languages  represented  the  nations 
of  the  world.  Here  was  a  scene  enacted  in 
which  the  whole  world  was  concerned. 
Write  the  words  so  that  all  may  read,  for 
he  who  hangs  here  this  day  suffers  for  us 
all.  Before  the  cross  were  Jews,  —  among 
them  the  Church  of  Christ  was  to  begin. 
Before  the  cross  were  Romans, — their  ar- 
mies were  to  carry  the  name  of  the  Cru- 
cified to  lands  remote.  Before  the  cross 
were  Greeks,  —  theirs  was  to  be  the  lan- 
guage of  the  gospels.  But  to-day  Roman 
and  Greek  and  Jew  join  in  reviling  him. 
"If  he  be  a  king,  let  him  come  down, 
then,  from  the  cross." 

The  thieves,  too,  representing  the  sin 
and  sorrow  and  death  which  he  had  come 
to  heal,  revile  him. 

22 


Zbc  Seconb  Morb 

Presently,  however,  a  difference  ap- 
peared between  these  reviling  thieves. 
"One  of  the  malefactors  which  were 
hanged  railed  on  him,  saying,  "  If  thou  be 
Christ,  save  thyself  and  us.  But  the  other 
answering  rebuked  him,  saying.  Dost  not 
thou  fear  God,  seeing  thou  art  in  the  same 
condemnation?  And  we  indeed  justly,  for 
we  receive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds, 
but  this  man  hath  done  nothing  amiss. 
And  he  said  unto  Jesus,  Lord,  remember 
me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom. 
And  Jesus  said  unto  him:  — 

**  IDertl^,  IF  ea^  unto  tbee,  Zo^^a^  sbalt 
tbou  be  wttb  me  in  paraMse/' 

II. 

Our  Lord  is  always  waiting  to  be  gra- 
cious. In  the  first  word  from  the  cross 
was  shown  his  great  compassion,  forgive- 
ness and  love  for  his  enemies.  With  how 
quick  a  tenderness  does  he  turn  now  to 
receive  him  who  ceases  his  enmity  and 
cries  out  for  his  mercy !  The  Good  Shep- 
herd has  followed  the  lost  sheep  over  the 

23 


^be  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

bleak  hills,  through  the  thorns,  among  the 
rocks,  seeking  and  calling,  careless  of  his 
own  comfort,  intent  only  upon  saving  the 
sheep;  will  he  not  then  very  gladly  re- 
ceive the  straying  sheep,  if  it  shall  hear  his 
voice  and  come  to  him?  Here  is  the  Good 
Shepherd;  for  the  lost  souls  of  men,  like 
sheep  gone  astray,  turned  every  one  to  his 
own  way,  for  these  he  came;  to  gain  these 
lost  ones  he  hung  upon  the  cross ;  will  he 
not  gladly,  then,  receive  every  sinful  soul 
that  turns  to  him? 

The  difference  between  the  two  thieves 
appeared  not  in  their  words  but  in  their 
tones  of  voice.  The  voice  interpreted  the 
words.  One  of  them  prayed,  "  If  thou  be 
Christ,  save  thyself  and  us;"  the  other 
prayed,  "  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou 
comest  into  thy  kingdom."  Which  of 
those  prayers  was  prayed  in  derision? 
Which  was  prayed  in  faith?  The  words  do 
not  tell  us.  The  meaning  was  revealed  by 
the  face  and  the  voice. 

Take  the  impenitent  thief's  prayer:  "If 
thou  be  Christ,  save  thyself  and  us."  It  is 
24 


XTbe  Seconb  Mocb 

true  that  the  first  word  is  "  if,"  and  that 
means  doubt.  But  the  father  of  the  de- 
moniac lad  met  Jesus  at  the  foot  of  the 
transfiguration  hill  with  the  same  "  if." 
Yes,  with  an  "  if  "  which  meant,  so  one 
might  think,  a  deeper  doubt,  —  "  if  thou 
canst  do  anything,"  help  us.  Yet  Jesus 
heard  that  prayer,  and  blessed  the  man 
who  prayed  it. 

Think,  too,  of  the  situation.  The  im- 
penitent thief  was  struggling  with  horrible 
pain,  out  of  which  he  could  see  no  pos- 
sible escape  but  death.  It  was  a  time  when 
doubt  was  almost  inevitable.  Moreover, 
Jesus  was  dying  on  the  cross.  That  was 
of  itself  enough  to  make  even  a  disciple 
lose  his  faith.  The  disciples  did  lose  faith. 
They  forsook  him  and  fled.  Where  were 
any  to  be  seen  upon  his  side?  The  intelli- 
gence, the  authority,  the  piety  of  the  day 
were  against  him.  The  magistrates  had 
condemned  him  at  the  request  of  the 
clergy.  All  the  people  from  whom  men 
commonly  got  their  opinions  were  his 
enemies.  He  seemed  to  have  no  friends. 

2$ 


Zhc  Cross  anb  jpasston 

There  he  was  upon  the  cross,  dying  like 
any  common  evildoer,  his  life  ending  in 
tragic  failure.  The  word  which  the  situa- 
tion seemed  imperatively  to  demand  was 
the  impenitent  thief's  word  —  "  if."  "  If 
thou  be  the  Christ;"  ought  it  not  to  be 
put  to  the  credit  of  the  impenitent  thief 
that  he  said  so  much  as  that?  Can  Jesus 
possibly  be  the  Christ  ?  It  is  incredible. 
Yet  he  prays  this  prayer. 

There  must  have  been  something  in  the 
tone  of  voice  which  expressed  a  meaning 
other  than  that  which  is  contained  in  the 
words.  The  other  thief  said,  "Lord,  re- 
member me  when  thou  comest  into  thy 
kingdom."  These  words,  too,  need  to  be  in- 
terpreted. They  have  a  railing  look.  There, 
side  by  side,  hang  the  thief  and  the  Mas- 
ter, seemingly  miserable  alike,  under  the 
same  condemnation,  facing  the  same  fate, 
and  the  thief  turns  to  the  Master,  and 
asks  to  be  remembered  in  his  kingdom. 
What  kingdom  has  this  forsaken  and  dis- 
credited leader,  dying  on  the  cross?  The 
words  seem  to  be  spoken  in  derision.  The 
26 


XTbe  Seconb  Morb 

only  way  in  which  it  could  be  known  that 
they  had  an  earnest  meaning  was  by  the 
tone  of  voice. 

Let  us  apply  this  immediately  in  several 
directions. 

First,  to  our  Lord's  words  as  they  are 
recorded  in  the  gospels.  Some  of  them  are 
terribly  stern  words.  Some  of  them,  as  for 
example  the  denunciation  of  the  scribes 
and  Pharisees,  sound  even  like  the  utter- 
ance of  anger.  What  indignation,  what 
bitterness,  seem  to  be  in  them!  But  in 
what  tone  of  voice  did  he  speak  these  hard 
words?  When  we  read  in  them  the  ac- 
cents of  sorrow  and  of  loving  disappoint- 
ment rather  than  of  anger,  it  makes  a 
difference. 

Let  us  apply  this  also  to  our  neigh- 
bor's words  as  they  are  reported  to  us,  or 
written  in  a  letter.  The  words  need  inter- 
pretation. Without  the  face  and  voice,  they 
are  of  doubtful  meaning.  A  great  many 
misunderstandings  would  be  avoided  if  we 
were  not  so  quick  to  conclude  that  the 
words  which  grieve  or  displease  us  were 
spoken  in  a  hard  and  unfraternal  voice. 

27 


XTbe  Cross  anb  passion 

This  applies  also  to  our  own  words  when 
we  pray.  For  here  beside  the  cross  are 
two  prayers,  one  of  which  seems  to  be  a 
cry  of  faith  and  the  other  a  cry  of  de- 
rision: but  the  intention  changes  them 
about.  What  do  our  prayers  mean?  Not 
simply  what  the  words  mean.  God  attends 
not  to  the  words  only,  but  to  the  spirit  in 
which  we  speak  them. 

Let  us  pray  again  in  silence,  occupying 
ourselves  with  these  two  acts:  the  act  of 
realization,  that  we  may  make  the  words 
of  our  prayer  true  words,  which  shall  ex- 
press our  hearts;  and  the  act  of  repent- 
ance, that  we  may  turn  to  Christ  as  the 
penitent  malefactor  did,  bringing  him  our 
sinful  selves,  asking  him  to  receive  and 
bless  us. 


28 


^be  XTbirb  Morb 


^be  Zhixb  Morb 

I. 

OT  all  who  stand  about  the 
cross  are  enemies;  not  all 
are  keeping  the  watch  of 
curiosity,  or  of  mere  formal 
duty:  some  there  are  who 
love  him.  The  enemies  are  cursing  and 
reviling,  wagging  their  heads,  passing  and 
repassing,  insulting  him;  but  afar  off,  and 
mournfully  silent,  there  are  friends. 

There  are  tender-hearted  women.  Mary 
Magdalene  is  one  of  them.  Another  is  the 
mother  of  James  and  John.  She  had  asked 
that  her  sons  might  have  their  places  on 
the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  where  now 
the  crosses  stand!  And  another  is  the 
mother  of  Jesus,  —  the  sorrowing  mother, 
the  sword  of  grief  piercing  her  soul.  Be- 
side her  is  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved. 
How  dark  the  world  must  have  seemed  to 
them!  How  miserable  the  present,  how 
empty  the  future!  Thus  do  we  also  look 
sometimes  into  the  future,  finding  it  blank 
as  they  did. 
Out  of  all  the  world,  God  had  chosen 

31 


tTbe  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

the  holy  mother  for  supreme  distinction. 
The  Son  of  God,  taking  our  nature  upon 
him,  and  beginning  our  life  at  the  be- 
ginning, was  intrusted  to  her  care.  What 
a  mark  of  the  approbation  of  God!  Blessed, 
indeed,  was  she  among  women.  But  the 
blessing  did  not  mean  wealth:  Mary  was 
as  poor  as  ever;  she  had  to  work  hard  all 
her  life.  Neither  did  the  blessing  mean 
peace,  of  the  world's  kind.  It  brought 
shame  at  the  beginning,  and  then  anxiety 
and  perplexity,  and  now  pain  at  the  end. 
Here,  too,  is  the  penitent  thief  whom 
Christ  has  blessed;  the  cross  hurts  just  as 
much  as  it  did  before.  Here  is  the  be- 
loved disciple  with  his  heart  full  of  great 
grief.  Here,  indeed,  is  the  Son  of  God  him- 
self hanging  on  the  cross.  It  is  a  scene  to 
think  of  when  we  are  tempted  to  think 
that  pain  and  grief  contradict  the  love  of 
God  for  us. 

Our  Lord's  first  word  was  for  his  ene- 
mies ;  the  next  was  for  an  enemy,  be- 
come penitent,  turning  to  his  love.   He 
speaks  now  to  his  friends. 
32 


^be  Zhkb  Morb 

We  have  seen  how  the  nations  of  the 
world  were  represented  about  the  cross; 
see  now  how  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men  were  there.  There  were  the  bitter 
enemies,  reviling  him,  some  hating  him 
because  he  did  not  belong  to  their  eccle- 
siastical party;  and  some  because  he  had 
interfered  with  their  unrighteous  dealing; 
and  some  because  he  had  exposed  and  dis- 
credited them  in  the  eyes  of  the  people; 
and  some  because  they  felt  themselves  re- 
buked by  his  good  life.  There  were  the 
unstable  multitude,  then  as  now,  blind  to 
their  best  interests,  persecuting  their 
friends,  following  men  who  despised  them, 
having  their  choice  between  a  murderer 
and  a  deliverer,  and  choosing  the  mur- 
derer;  against  the  Christ,  because  that  was 
the  common  sentiment  of  the  street,  not 
knowing  why.  There  were  the  indifferent, 
strangers  passing  by  on  the  road,  milkmen 
and  market-men  coming  in  out  of  the 
country  on  their  daily  errands,  and  seeing 
some  one  hanging  on  a  cross  —  seeing 
three,  and  distinguishing  no  difference  be- 

33 


XTbe  Cross  anb  passion 

tween  them.  There  were  secret  friends, 
standing  among  enemies,  really  reveren- 
cing him,  but  not  brave  enough  to  confess 
it,  not  daring  to  stand  openly  upon  his 
side.  There  were  beginners  in  true  religion, 
the  penitent  thief  representing  them.  And 
there  were  also  those  who  had  intimately 
known  and  loved  him. 

He  turns  now  to  these  last,  to  his  mother 
and  his  friend.    He  says :  — 

'^Ximoman,  Ijcbol^  tb^  Son.— 3BebolD 
tbp  motber/' 

II. 

The  cross  is  the  symbol  of  unselfishness. 
It  was  lifted  up  because  God  is  unselfish. 
"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his 
only-begotten  Son: "  he  gave  himself.  The 
cross  was  lifted  up,  and  the  Son  of  God 
submitted  to  be  crucified  to  make  us  un- 
selfish. " He  died  for  all."  Why?  "That 
they  which  lived  should  not  henceforth 
live  unto  themselves." 

Unselfishness  shows  itself  in  considera- 
tion for  others.  Two  conditions  make  such 
consideration  difficult.  One  of  them  is  our 
34 


tTbe  ZTbitb  Movb 

own  pain,  our  own  trouble.  It  makes  us 
selfish.  Very  often  in  sickness  or  in  grief, 
Christians  forget  about  other  people.  They 
are  altogether  absorbed  in  themselves.  The 
other  hardening  condition  is  social  differ- 
ence. It  is  sometimes  found  that  those  who 
are  highly  considerate  of  the  desires  and 
feelings  of  those  who  are  closely  con- 
nected with  them  by  bonds  of  kinship,  or 
friendship,  or  personal  congeniality,  are  in- 
considerate of  persons  whom  they  do  not 
know  very  well,  or  who  are  in  what  we 
call  dependent  positions,  or  are  socially  un- 
congenial. They  will  exert  themselves  to 
give  pleasure  to  those  who  can  give  them 
pleasure  in  return,  but  those  whose  ac- 
quaintance Will  yield  no  apparent  profit 
they  will  not  please.  They  are  social  pro- 
tectionists, shutting  themselves  up  within 
narrow  limits,  and  exchanging  pleasures 
and  privileges  with  the  pleasant  and  the 
privileged.  They  are  not  interested  in  the 
unprivileged. 

He  who  hung  upon  the  cross  thought 
not  of  himself.  There  he  hung  for  the  sake 

35 


Zhc  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

of  those  to  whom  he  came  not  that  they 
might  minister  to  him,  but  that  he 
might  minister  to  them.  Even  the  penitent 
thief  was  selfish :  he  wanted  something  for 
himself  —  though  what  he  wanted  was  for 
his  soul,  not  for  his  body :  that  makes  a 
difference.  We  are  intent  upon  our  own 
comfort  and  convenience.  We  are  so  bent 
upon  enjoying  our  privileges  that  we  for- 
get that  they  are  ours  only  as  stewards  of 
them  for  the  good  of  others. 

Selfishness  shows  itself  in  small  things. 
The  selfish  soul  is  not  careful  of  the  tastes 
of  others ;  commonly  does  not  notice ;  goes 
about  hurting  people's  feelings  without 
knowing  it.  The  unselfish  soul  is  always 
saying  a  kind  word,  and  doing  little  thought- 
ful things  to  set  people  at  ease,  and  show 
friendship.  You  see  him  talking  with  the 
neglected  people,  and  doing  the  hxmibler 
duties.  He  is  all  the  time  going  out  of  his 
way  to  do  to  others  as  he  would  have 
them  do  to  him. 

The  world  is  full  of  unkindness,  when 
it  might  so  easily  be  full  of  friendliness 
36 


Zhe  Zbkb  Morb 

and  love.  There  is  probably  no  way  in 
which  we  can  so  effectively  advance  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  as  to  be  quietly 
thoughtful  for  others. 

In  the  midst  of  his  pain,  Jesus  sees  be- 
side the  cross  his  mother,  and  his  friend, 
and  in  the  midst  of  his  pain  he  ministers 
to  them. 

See  what  it  is  that  he  says.  It  is  not 
simply  a  word  of  affection  and  of  consola- 
tion. It  is  a  word  of  helpful  counsel.  The 
sorrowing  mother,  the  sorrowing  disciple, 
are  helped  by  being  given  something  to  do. 
They  are  to  find  comfort  for  themselves 
by  comforting  each  other.  That  is  the  mes- 
sage from  the  cross  to  all  who  are  in  any 
trouble.  To  sit  down  and  think  about  it 
is  fatal.  In  that  direction  is  no  comfort. 
The  thing  to  do  is  to  seek  opportunities  of 
ministry.  Thus  does  Jesus  apply  his  own 
example  of  unselfish  consideration. 

Let  us  take  this  third  word  from  the 
cross  into  our  own  thoughts  and  prayers 
in  silence.  It  teaches  the  lesson  of  unself- 
ish consideration.  Do  we  need  the  lesson? 
Are  we  unselfish  and  considerate? 

37 


^be  jfourtb  Morb 


Zhc  dfourtb  Morb 

I. 

ETWEEN  the  first  words 
from  the  cross  and  those  on 
which  we  now  come  to  medi- 
tate there  was  an  interval. 
Several  hours  seem  to  have 
passed.  In  that  time  the  darkness  came. 

Jesus  has  forgiven  his  foes;  he  has 
blessed  his  friends;  he  has  welcomed  one 
who  ceases  to  be  a  foe  and  becomes  a 
friend.  Now  the  noise  of  the  reviling  stops. 
With  the  darkness  a  silence  falls  upon  the 
crowd  beside  the  cross.  And  with  the  dark- 
ness a  veil  falls  between  Christ  and  the 
world.  He  looks  away  from  earth,  above, 
to  his  Father. 

The  supreme  pain  of  our  Lord's  suffer- 
ing was  the  grief  of  his  soul.  This  had 
been  so  bitter  that  before  a  hand  had  been 
laid  upon  him,  lying  on  his  face  under 
the  olive  trees  in  Gethsemane,  his  sweat 
was  as  great  drops  of  blood.  This  had  been 
the  hardest  part  of  all  that  he  had  en- 
dured during  the  long  tragedy  of  the  night 
and  the  morning. 

41 


^be  Cross  anb  passion 

There  are  two  things  which  grieve  the 
soul  above  all  others:  they  are  sin  and 
separation. 

On  him  was  laid  our  sin.  We  know  not 
how,  but  somehow  the  burden  of  a  world's 
sin  was  laid  upon  his  heart.  He  bare  our 
sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree.  There 
pressed  in  upon  his  human  soul  a  con- 
sciousness, intense  beyond  expression,  of 
the  dread  fact  of  sin.  The  sin  of  the  race 
was  present  to  his  mind.  He  saw  it,  past, 
present,  and  to  come.  He  saw  its  immens- 
ity, its  enormity.  The  lamentation  of  hu- 
manity was  in  his  ears.  He  saw,  too,  the 
sorrow  which  sin  causes  in  the  heart  of 
the  eternal  Father.  He  realized,  —  what  no 
other  human  soul  has  ever  adequately 
realized,  —  what  sin  is.  And  beside  sin  was 
love :  the  sin  of  man,  the  love  of  God. 

He  had  not  sinned,  but  somehow  he 
was  made  responsible  for  sin.  He  was  the 
sacrifice  for  our  sins.  By  an  instinct  well- 
nigh  universal,  the  priests  of  different  re- 
ligions have,  after  a  confession   of  sin, 

laid  their  hands  upon  the  head  of  a  sac- 
42 


^be  fourth  Morb 

rificial  victim,  as  if  to  transfer  to  it  their 
own  sins  and  the  people's,  and  have  killed 
it.  Here  now  is  the  supreme  victim.  Upon 
this  altar  of  the  cross  is  one  who  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world.  He  represents 
us  sinners;  that  we  may  not  die,  he  dies 
for  us. 

And  with  this  sense  of  sin  comes  the 
pain  of  separation.  The  blackness  of  sin  so 
shuts  in  the  human  soul  of  Jesus  that  he 
loses  for  a  moment  the  sight  of  the  face 
of  God.  That  is  what  sin  does.  It  sets  a 
wall  of  separation  between  the  soul  and 
God.  Jesus  knows  what  it  means  for  us  to 
have  to  struggle  against  sin.  He  knows 
what  it  means  when  men  despair  and  lose 
sight  of  God.  He  knows  what  it  means 
when  men  lose  faith,  and  the  sky  above 
is  brass,  and  prayer  echoes  back  as  against 
a  wall,  and  the  fear  lays  hold  of  a  man's 
soul  that  there  is  no  heaven,  no  life  be- 
yond the  grave,  no  God.  Jesus  knows  what 
even  that  means,  so  deep  went  his  human 
soul  into  the  profoundest  sorrows  of  our 
lives. 

43 


^be  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

Jesus  is  dying.  Darkness  is  without; 
darkness  is  within.  He  cries  with  a  loud 
voice:  — 

**/iDy  Gob,  mp  6ob,  wb^  bast  tbou  tots* 
saften  me/' 

II. 

We  know  the  very  syllables  he  spoke. 
They  have  come  down  in  the  records  of 
that  hour,  as  if  they  echoed  in  the  ears  of 
those  who  heard  them.  They  were  familiar 
words.  They  stand  at  the  beginning  of  the 
twenty-second  psalm.  But  from  that  mo- 
ment they  had  a  new  meaning.  Thence- 
forth the  voice  out  of  the  darkness  clung 
to  the  very  letters  of  those  words. 

They  are  altogether  human  words.  Jesus 
Christ  is  truly  God  and  also  truly  man.  No 
attempt  is  made  in  the  New  Testament  to 
reconcile  these  truths.  Here  they  are,  the 
divinity  and  the  humanity,  like  two  col- 
umns in  a  great  cathedral,  between  which 
we  stand,  touching  one  here  and  the  other 
there ;  somewhere  out  of  sight,  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  high  roof,  they  meet.  "  My 
44 


^be  f  outtb  Morb 

God ! "  he  cries,  looking  up  as  we  must  into 
God's  face,  and  uttering  his  prayer.  The 
words  are  human  words.  God  is  revealed, 
but  in  a  humanity  like  our  own.  You  re- 
member the  great  lines  in  Browning's 
"Saul":  — 

'Tis  the  weakness  in  strength  that  I  cry  for  !  my 

flesh  that  I  seek 
In  the  Godhead  !    I  seek  and  I  find  it.    0  Lord, 

it  shall  be 
A  face  like  my  face  that  receives  thee ;  a  man 

like  to  me. 
Thou  shalt  love  and  be  loved  by  forever  !  a  Hand 

like  this  hand 
Shall  throw  open  the  gates  of  new  life  to  thee ! 

See  the  Christ  stand ! 

God  is  in  Christ,  revealing  on  the  cross 
his  infinite,  his  unimaginable  love  for 
man.  But  the  voice  is  a  man's  voice,  Uke 
our  own.  And  the  words  are  those  which 
a  man  spoke,  one  like  ourselves,  looking 
up  out  of  the  depths,  out  of  the  blackness 
and  despair  of  pain  and  grief  into  the 
dimib  sky.  It  is  all  real,  —  terribly,  tragi- 
cally real.  Jesus  feels  that  God  has  for- 
saken him.  And  the  question  which  he 

45 


^be  Cross  anb  Ip^assion 

asks  is  the  ancient  question  which  men 
have  asked  in  tears,  in  anger,  in  amaze- 
ment, since  the  world  began. 

God  has  forsaken  him:  but  how?  Not 
by  the  withdrawal  of  his  presence.  God 
cannot  thus  forsake  us,  nor  we  him:  for 
God  is  always  with  us,  and  in  him  we  live 
and  move  and  have  our  being.  Not  by  the 
withdrawal  of  his  love.  The  great  mystery 
of  the  atonement  has  led  some  to  read 
into  the  words  a  fearful  punishment  which 
Jesus  at  this  moment  suffered  for  the  re- 
mission of  our  sins.  The  dense  cloud  of 
our  transgression  drifts  in  between  the 
soul  of  Jesus  and  the  face  of  God.  That 
may  be  true,  but  the  words  do  not  teach 
it. 

No ;  God  had  forsaken  Jesus  not  by  the 
withdrawal  of  his  presence,  nor  by  the 
withholding  of  his  love,  but  by  the  with- 
drawal of  his  help.  Jesus  had  been  given 
over  into  the  hands  of  his  adversaries,  and 
they  had  done  with  him  what  they  would, 
and  God  had  kept  still  silence.  They  had 
mocked  and  derided  him,  they  had  set  him 
46 


Ube  fourth  Morb 

at  naught  and  spit  upon  him,  they  had 
scourged  him,  they  had  crucified  him,  and 
God  had  not  spoken,  God  had  not  stirred. 

What  depths  of  tragic  meaning  are  in 
the  words  we  may  never  know.  St.  Francis 
of  Assisi  prays  all  night,  saying  nothing 
from  beginning  to  end  but,  "  0  my  God! 
0  my  God ! "  What  confessions  and  thanks- 
givings, what  litanies  of  supplication,  what 
love  unspeakable  the  words  contained. 
"Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabachthani  ?  "  No;  the 
words  can  never  be  translated. 

The  lesson  of  it  which  we  may  take 
with  us  now  into  the  silence  of  our  prayers 
is  the  lesson  of  the  reality  of  the  sym- 
pathy of  Jesus.  He  knows  what  it  means 
to  suffer,  and  he  knows  what  it  means  to 
wonder  why.  The  supreme  pain  is  that 
which  touches  mind  and  soul.  The  su- 
preme crisis  in  the  tragedy  of  life  is  that 
moment  when  we  seem  to  be  forsaken 
even  by  God.  Jesus  Christ  understands 
that.  The  awful  doubt  which  invades  the 
heart  of  man,  he  knows.  His  blessed  sym- 
pathy is  with  us.  We  know  that  we  can 

47 


Zhc  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

go  on,  because  he  did.  And  we  know  that, 
gomg  on,  we  shall  come,  as  he  came,  mto 
the  light,  into  the  joy  of  God,  into  the 
peace  which  passeth  understanding. 


48 


Zhc  jfiftb  Morb 


^be  mtth  Morb 

I. 

NE  third  of  the  gospel  nar- 
Irative  is  occupied  with  the 
history  of  this  week.  Chap- 
|ter    after    chapter,   which 

might  have  contained  a  rec- 

ord  of  the  words  and  works  of  our  blessed 
Lord,  is  taken  up  with  a  recital  of  what 
his  enemies  said  and  did  agamst  him.  Thus 
are  we  taught  the  importance  of  his  blessed 
death.  Not  by  his  teaching  only  did  he  save 
us ;  not  by  his  sinless  life  did  he  redeem  us. 
We  are  saved  by  his  blood. 

Recall  how  often  and  in  how  many  ways 
that  is  repeated : —My  blood,  which  is  shed 
for  you  and  for  many,  for  the  remission 
of  sins ;  — redemption  through  his  blood; 
—  peace  through  the  blood  of  his  cross; — 
the  people  sanctified  with  his  own  blood  ; 
— redeemed  with  the  precious  blood  of 
Christ.  Remember  how  both  of  the  sacra- 
ments are  connected  with  the  cross:  — we 
are  baptized  mto  his  death;  we  offer  his 
broken  body  and  shed  blood  as  a  memorial 
of  his  death. 

51 


XLhc  Cross  anb  jpassion 

It  is  remarkable,  however,  how  brief  is 
the  record  of  the  sufferings  of  Jesus.  We 
are  told  what  took  place.  He  was  taken 
from  the  garden  by  a  mob  of  servants  and 
soldiers;  he  was  put  on  trial  before  the 
chief  priests  who  had  before  determined  to 
destroy  him;  he  was  set  at  naught  by 
Herod's  men-at-arms,  and  stricken  with  a 
rod,  and  scourged,  and  spit  upon,  in  the 
courts  of  Pilate's  palace;  the  cross  was 
laid  upon  his  shoulders  that  he  might  bear 
it  out  beyond  the  gates;  there  he  was  cru- 
cified, his  hands  and  feet  being  nailed  to 
the  cross;  and  there  he  hung  all  day,  from 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  three  in 
the  afternoon,  in  increasing  pain.  That  is 
the  tragic  story.  The  evangelists  tell  it 
without  comment,  without  exclamation, 
without  adjective.  In  its  silence,  in  its  al- 
most incredible  self-repression,  it  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  narratives  in  all 
history.  When  was  ever  a  martyr's  death 
described  so  quietly,  with  so  just  a  sense 
of  spiritual  perspective,  with  so  little  ref- 
erence to  the  cruelty  of  the  executioner, 
or  to  the  pain  of  the  hero. 
52 


Zhc  dfiftb  Morb 

Jesus  did  not  ask  for  pity,  nor  did  they 
ask  it  for  him.  When  the  compassionate 
Jerusalem  women  lined  the  road  as  with 
his  cross  upon  his  back  he  went  along  the 
way  of  sorrows,  and  wept  to  see  him,  you 
remember  what  he  said.  He  told  them  not 
to  weep  for  him,  but  for  themselves  and 
their  children.  Very  notable,  indeed,  is  the 
gentleness  of  Jesus.  All  that  is  best  in 
womanhood  is  in  him.  Take,  for  example, 
the  beatitudes  —  perhaps  the  most  char- 
acteristic sentences  of  his  teaching — how 
quiet,  how  friendly  and  peaceable,  how 
gracious,  how  womanly,  are  these  gentle 
virtues!  But  no  less  notable  is  the  hero- 
ism, the  audacity,  the  strength,  the  mas- 
terfulness, of  Jesus.  He  was  the  manliest 
of  men.  When  he  asked  his  disciples, 
"Whom  do  men  say  that  I  am?"  They 
answered  that  some  called  him  another 
Jeremiah,  and  some  another  Elijah,  and 
that  all  agreed  that  he  was  like  one  of 
the  ancient  prophets  come  to  life  again. 
It  is  a  register  of  the  popular  impression. 
It  means  that  men  were  chiefly  impressed 

53 


XTbe  Cross  anb  passion 

by  the  directness  of  his  speech,  by  his 
boldness  in  rebuking  sin,  by  his  position 
as  a  leader  of  men,  by  his  commanding 
masculine  personality.  When  the  crowd 
went  out  to  take  him,  they  armed  them- 
selves with  swords  and  clubs.  They  were 
afraid.  When  he  came  forward,  and  said, 
"I  am  he,"  they  fell  back  in  confusion, 
disconcerted,  fearful  what  might  happen. 
Jesus  did  not  appear  to  the  people  of  his 
time  to  be  a  passive  person,  eminent  espe- 
cially for  his  tenderness,  his  sweetness,  his 
gospel  of  peace.  To  the  scribes  and  Phari- 
sees, he  was  a  revolutionist,  a  dangerous 
man,  to  be  watched  and  dreaded,  to  be 
put  out  of  the  way.  The  characteristic 
which  they  saw  most  clearly  in  him  was 
strength. 

No  hero  ever  went  to  death  in  a  fight 
for  the  right  with  a  firmer  step  than  that 
of  Jesus  along  the  way  which  led  to  the 
cross.  We  hardly  realize  to-day,  now  that 
we  and  our  fathers  have  lived  so  long  in 
the  midst  of  the  blessed  conditions  which 
he  made  possible,  —  we  hardly  realize  how 
54 


^be  jftttb  Morb 

he  stood  out  alone  against  all  the  princi- 
palities and  powers,  against  all  the  official 
wisdom,  all  the  authority,  of  his  time, 
knowing  that  it  meant  sure  death,  but 
never  drawing  back  for  that.  The  silence 
of  the  gospels  is  a  tribute  to  the  manli- 
ness of  Jesus.  The  men  who  wrote  them, 
wrote  what  they  thought  he  would  approve. 
They  spent  no  time  telling  how  the  nails 
hurt  his  hands ;  they  did  not  dwell  upon  the 
agonies  of  the  cross.  They  knew  very  well 
that  he  would  not  like  that.  No  strong 
man  would. 

In  one  word  only  does  Jesus  show  that 
a  part  of  the  woe  of  the  cross  was  pain  of 
body.  He  cries  — 

**1Ftbtr0t/* 

II. 

One  of  the  inevitable  torments  of  the 
cross  was  thirst.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
crucifixion  they  had  offered  him  a  sooth- 
ing draught,  as  the  custom  was,  but  he 
had  refused  it.  It  was  mercifully  drugged, 
that  it  might  deaden  the  sense  of  pain.  He 
chose  to  meet  death  face  to  face.  He  would 

55 


TLhc  Cross  anb  [passion 

"  hate  that  death  bandaged  his  eyes,  and 
forbore,  and  bade  him  creep  past."  But 
now  the  bitterness  of  the  last  fight  is  over. 
A  breath  or  two  more,  and  there  will  be 
an  end;  all  things  will  be  accomplished; 
will  be  finished.  And  he  thirsts.  They  dip 
a  sponge  in  vinegar, — that  is,  in  the  sour 
wine  of  which  the  soldiers  have  been 
drinking, — and  put  it  on  a  reed, — on  the 
end  of  a  slender  stem, — and  lift  it  to  his 
lips. 

All  great  words  have  meanings  which 
are  hidden  from  the  careless  reader.  The 
grammar  and  the  dictionary  do  not  suf- 
fice to  interpret  them :  they  can  be  under- 
stood only  by  experience.  Sometimes  they 
require  the  experience  of  centuries.  Even 
to-day,  after  all  the  ages,  rich  truth  lies 
unquarried,  even  unfound,  in  the  pages 
of  the  Bible.  The  Bible  has  its  messages 
which  have  not  been  heeded,  which  have 
not  been  heard.  There  are  revolutions  and 
reformations  still,  hidden  in  the  book. 
There  are  words  which  are  but  symbols  of 
a  truth  of  which  the  sound  is  the  sug- 
gestion. 
56 


Zhc  mtth  Morb 

Jesus  thirsts.  Is  it  for  water  only?  No; 
it  is  for  our  allegiance,  for  our  faith  and 
love,  for  our  souls.  He  gives  himself  for 
us,  asking  that  we  in  return  give  ourselves 
for  him.  This,  he  says,  have  I  done  for 
thee;  what  doest  thou  for  me?  The  out- 
stretched hands  upon  the  cross  are  out- 
stretched in  benediction,  in  invitation.  Je- 
sus calls  us.  In  the  voice  of  love,  with  the 
gesture  of  love,  he  calls.  It  is  for  us  he 
thirsts. 

Jesus  is  the  manifestation  of  God.  All 
that  he  spoke  and  did,  all  that  he  is, 
teaches  us  of  God.  And  upon  the  cross,  he 
thirsts.  It  is  the  longing  of  which  he  told 
us,  which  the  good  shepherd  has  for  the 
lost  sheep.  It  is  the  love  of  which  he  told 
us,  which  the  father  has  for  the  prodigal 
son.  Let  us  take  this  thought  with  us  into 
the  place  of  silence,  and  consider  it.  He 
thirsts,  who  came  that  we  might  never 
thirst.  He  will  satisfy  us  utterly;  but  he 
himself  will  not  be  satisfied  until  we  give 
him  our  allegiance,  our  confidence,  our 
love,  our  selves. 

57 


Zbc  Siitb  Morb 


Zhc  Siitb  Morb 

I. 

I  HE  seven  words  from  the 
cross  fall  into  three  divi- 
sions. The  first  three  were 
words  which  had  to  do  with 
our  Lord's  human  relation- 
ships: he  addresses  first  his  enemies,  then 
one  enemy  who  has  become  a  disciple,  then 
his  friends,  his  most  faithful  and  beloved 
friends.  The  next  two  words  were  cries  of 
confiict :  one  of  spiritual  distress,  the  other 
of  physical  distress.  The  last  two  words 
were  cries  of  triumph.  He  looks  back  over 
the  fought  field :  the  fight  is  ended,  victo- 
riously ended  —  "  It  is  finished."  He  looks 
forward  to  the  benedictions  of  the  great 
achievement,  to  the  approbation  of  the 
Father,  —  "  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  com- 
mend my  spirit." 

The  end  draws  near.  It  is  about  the 
ninth  hour.  At  three  o'clock  they  had  a 
daily  service  in  the  temple,  and  offered  a 
lamb  upon  the  altar.  They  need  not  offer 
it  to-day.  It  is  but  a  symbol.  Here  is  the 
reality.   Here  is  the  Lamb   slain,  —  the 

6i 


Zhc  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin 
of  the  world. 
Again  Christ  speaks,  saying :  — 

*♦  lit  Is  flntsbet)." 

11. 

What  was  finished? 

Finished,  men  who  stood  about  him 
would  have  said,  a  life  mistakenly  thrown 
away.  Finished,  a  life  which  might  have 
been  long,  and  full  of  love  and  comfort 
and  honor,  but  which  was  voluntarily 
made  hard ;  a  life  of  work  without  reward, 
of  labor  without  appreciation,  willingly 
shortened.  Finished,  a  tragic  failure.  For 
the  cross  was  but  the  last  inevitable  step 
in  a  long  descent.  It  was  not  as  if  a  Ufe 
of  splendid  achievement,  of  victory  added 
to  victory,  of  glorious  promise,  had  sud- 
denly been  cut  short.  The  death  of  Jesus 
was  not  like  the  death  of  the  general  in 
the  moment  when  the  battle  is  won.  It 
was  the  last  extremity  of  prolonged  defeat. 
Little  by  little,  day  by  day,  friends  had  be- 
come fewer,  foes  had  grown  mightier. 
62 


^be  Siitb  Motb 

That  was  what  made  the  disciples  so  lose 
heart.  That  was  why  they  forsook  him 
and  fled.  They  had  been  losing  heart  for 
a  long  time.  It  was  a  Ufe  of  failure,  a  de- 
feat, it  seemed,  which  thus  upon  the  cross 
was  finished. 

How  different  is  God's  judgment  from 
ours!  how  different  his  valuation!  Much 
which  we  account  to  be  failure  is  success, 
as  he  sees  it.  Much  which  we  consider 
wealth  is  but  pitiful  poverty.  They  alone 
shall  save  their  lives,  he  says,  who  are 
content  to  lose  them.  Here  in  the  darkness 
and  ignominy  of  the  cross,  amid  the  re- 
viling of  enemies  and  the  forsaking  of 
friends,  was  ended  the  life  of  one  who  in 
the  sight  of  men  had  met  defeat;  but  in 
the  sight  of  God,  this  crucified  man  had 
won  the  victory  of  victories. 

What  will  be  finished,  let  us  ask,  when 
death  comes  to  us  ?  How  will  our  life  look 
in  that  hour,  not  to  our  neighbors,  nor 
even  to  ourselves  —  though  we  shall  see  it 
plainer  than  we  do  now  —  but  to  him  who 
sees  entirely  and  in  truth  ?  How  will  it 
look  to  him  ?  What  will  be  finished  ? 

63 


Ube  Cross  anb  Ipassion 

One  day  our  finished  lives  must  meet  a 
test.  It  will  be  like  the  testing  of  a  house 
by  fire.  We  are  each  one  of  us  building  the 
house  of  our  life.  One  has  a  house  of  wood ; 
another's  house  is  but  a  pile  of  straw; 
another's  house  is  but  a  heap  of  worth- 
less stubble,  swept  together;  another's 
house  shines  like  the  precious  wall  of  the 
celestial  mansions,  set  with  the  gems  of 
helpful  deeds.  Our  life  is  a  house,  and  we 
are  building  it  every  day,  and  by-and-by 
it  will  be  finished,  ready  to  be  tested, — 
to  be  tested,  St.  Paul  says,  as  by  fire. 
What  will  be  left  of  wood,  hay,  stubble, 
after  the  fierce  fixe  has  breathed  upon 
them?  Just  as  much  as  will  be  left  of  our 
lives,  if  they  are  constructed  of  materials 
as  perishable.  One  finishes  a  life  built  up 
of  treasure  gathered  for  the  earth,  a  self- 
ish, foolish,  unhelpful,  unholy  life,  with- 
out any  honest  thinking  in  it,  without  any 
good  deeds  in  it.  What  a  finishing  is  that! 
Think  what  the  words,  "  It  is  finished," 
must  mean  to  such  a  soul. 

Finished,  here  upon  the  cross,  a  life  of 
64 


^be  Sirtb  Morb 

perfect  obedience.  The  first  recorded  words 
of  our  Lord  are,  "Wist  ye  not  that  I  must 
be  about  my  Father's  business?"  "My 
meat,"  he  said,  "  is  to  do  the  will  of  him 
that  sent  me,  and  to  finish  his  work." 
Now  the  work  was  finished.  Finished,  a 
short  life,  and  a  hard  life,  but  a  success- 
ful life.  Successful?  It  has  transformed  the 
world.  By  what  means?  By  spiritual  means. 
It  begins  in  a  stable  and  ends  on  the 
cross.  There  is  not  a  moment  of  it  when 
Jesus  has  any  money,  or  any  might  of 
arms,  or  any  political  influence.  It  is  not 
necessary,  then,  in  order  to  effectual  ser- 
vice, to  have  wealth  or  power.  By  simpli- 
city, by  loyalty,  by  self-sacrifice,  by  wil- 
lingness to  give  ourselves  as  he  did  for  the 
good  of  men  in  the  name  of  God,  —  thus 
shall  the  kingdom  of  God  come,  thus  shall 
we  begin  and  finish  the  work  which  he 
has  for  us  to  do. 

Life  is  finished  here;  death,  too,  is  fin- 
ished. All  his  life  he  had  looked  forward 
to  this  hour.  We  all  know  that  we  must 
die,  but  with  him  this  common  calamity 

65 


Ube  Cross  anb  passion 

was  combined  with  a  strange  foreboding. 
He  was  strong  and  courageous;  that  is 
plain.  When  the  moment  came  he  met  it 
"  as  a  brave  man  meets  a  foe."  But  he 
dreaded  it  exceedingly,  and  with  much 
more  than  the  ordinary  fear  of  death  as 
an  entrance  into  the  unknown.  His  words 
to  Nicodemus  at  the  beginning  show  how 
it  was  in  his  mind:  the  Son  of  man  must 
be  "  lifted  up."  His  frequent  warnings  to 
his  disciples  as  the  end  approached  show 
how  his  thoughts  dwelt  upon  it.  The  agony 
in  the  garden  as  he  passes  at  last  into  the 
awful  shadow  of  it  shows  that  there  was 
something  singularly  terrible  about  it.This 
death  which  is  now  accomplished  is  no 
conmion  death. 

^  No ;  it  is  our  death  also,  as  well  as  his, 
which  is  here  finished.  Death  itself  is  here 
met  and  conquered.  It  is  not  abolished ;  we 
know  that  only  too  well.  But  it  is  shown 
to  us  in  its  true  meaning.  It  is  made  to 
read  its  ancient  riddle.  It  is  a  visitation  not 
of  dread  but  of  blessing.  Jesus  died  upon 
the  cross  for  us.  To  save  us ;  to  put  an  end 
66 


^be  Siitb  moxb 

to  death  and  dread  and  sin,  he  died.  For 
those  who  give  themselves  to  him,  every- 
thing that  is  bad  is  finished.  All  things  are 
become  new.  Death  is  finished;  pain  and 
grief  are  finished. 

We  kneel  now  again  in  the  silence,  and 
listen  to  this  word  of  victory.  It  brings 
two  messages :  a  message  of  warning  and 
a  message  of  consolation.  The  word  warns 
us  in  the  midst  of  our  busy  lives.  Some 
day  there  will  be  an  end  to  all  this  occu- 
pation, and  it  will  be  finished.  What  will  be 
finished  ?  The  word  comforts  us  in  the 
midst  of  the  sore  trials  and  sorrows  which 
beset  us  all.  Jesus  Christ  has  gone  on 
along  the  same  road,  and  tells  us  where  it 
leads.  There  is  light  and  joy  and  infinite 
blessing  at  the  end  of  it.  "  Let  not  your 
heart,"  he  says,  "be  troubled;  ye  believe 
in  God,  believe  also  in  me.  In  my  Father's 
house  are  many  mansions;  if  it  were  not 
so,  I  would  have  told  you.  I  go  to  prepare 
a  place  for  you.  And  if  I  go  and  prepare 
a  place  for  you,  I  will  come  again,  and  re- 
ceive you  unto  myself,  that  where  I  am, 

67 


^be  Cross  anb  (passion 

there  ye  may  be  also.  .  .  .  Peace  I  leave 
with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you;  not 
as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you.  Let 
not  your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it 
be  afraid." 


68 


Xtbe  Seventh  Motb 


Zhc  Seventh  Morb 


I. 

T  last  it  is  the  end, — the  end 
of  his  pain  and  of  our  watch- 
^  ing.  At  three  o'clock,  Jesus 
cried  with  a  loud  voice,  and 
speaking  a  final  word  of 
peace  and  faith,  he  bowed  his  head  and 
died. 

Before,  when  he  cried  aloud,  it  was  in 
the  moment  of  his  desolation.  God  seemed 
to  have  forsaken  him.  The  sin  of  the  race 
had  come  between  his  human  soul  and  the 
face  of  the  Father.  But  now  when  he  lifts 
his  voice  again,  the  words  are  words  of 
confidence  and  satisfaction.  Again  he  calls 
God,  "  Father." 

II. 

When  he  cried,  "It  is  finished,"  that 
was  the  end,  the  end  of  the  supreme  sac- 
rifice. Now  he  cries  again,  and  it  is  the 
beginning;  Jesus  passes  on  out  of  his  life 
which  is  like  our  present  life  into  that 
other  life  which  shall  sometime  be  ours 
also,  but  which  is  hidden  from  our  eyes; 

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XTbe  Cross  anb  passion 

old  things  are  passed  away,  behold  all 
things  are  become  new. 

The  human  life  of  Jesus  ends  with  the 
great  name  of  God.  This  phrase,  "The 
name  of  God,"  means  the  character  of 
God.  When  we  find  in  the  Bible  a  new 
name  of  God,  we  find  that  it  is  the  ex- 
pression of  a  new  truth  about  God.  Thus 
to  Moses,  we  are  told,  God  taught  a  new 
name.  He  had  been  called  by  a  name 
which  meant  power;  God  was  known  as 
a  mighty  force  or  company  of  forces  out 
of  sight  but  active  in  our  eyes.  Now  he 
was  to  be  called  by  a  name  which  means 
personality  and  eternity,  the  name  Jeho- 
vah. That  was  the  revelation  of  a  new 
truth  about  God,  and  it  was  at  the  heart 
of  that  great  social  and  religious  revolu- 
tion of  which  Moses  was  the  leader. 

Jesus  came  with  a  new  name  of  God: 
he  called  God  "Father."  The  advance 
which  this  name  indicates  over  the  earlier 
names  of  the  Old  Testament  is  plain 
enough.  It  changed,  deepened,  and  enriched 
men's  thoughts  of  God.  He  was  seen  to 
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^be  Seventh  Morb 

be  all  that  men  had  hitherto  believed  con- 
cerning him,  and  wonderfully  more  also. 
It  was  a  great  thing  to  realize  God  as  eter- 
nal, but  to  realize  him  as  paternal,  —  what 
a  new  and  blessed  thought!  This  name 
contains  the  special  revelation  which  Jesus 
made  of  God.  It  has  already  wrought  revo- 
lutions, and  will  go  on  changing  both  the 
thought  and  the  life  of  man. 

So  characteristic  is  this  name  of  the 
doctrine  of  God  which  Jesus  taught,  that 
men  remembered  the  tone  of  voice  in 
which  he  spoke  the  word.  "Abba,"  he  said, 
a  word  which  expresses  not  only  the  idea 
of  fatherhood,  but  the  idea  of  loving  son- 
ship, —  a  term  of  closeness  and  endear- 
ment. He  said  it  so  often  and  with  so  sin- 
gular an  accent  of  reverence  and  affection 
that  it  is  left  untranslated,  being  filled  so 
full  of  his  blessed  voice  that  it  was  not 
possible  adequately  to  translate  it. 

This  name  of  God  interprets  life.  The 
unknown  is  to  be  approached  by  the  way 
of  the  known.  That  is  plainly  what  we  do 
in  all  common  reasoning!  We  argue  from 

73 


^be  Cross  anb  passion 

the  known  to  the  unknown.  Here,  then, 
are  the  difficult  mysteries  of  human  life, 
the  pain  and  grief  which  we  vainly  try  to 
understand.  One  thing  is  known,  and  that 
is  that  God  is  our  Father.  That  is  sure. 
Everything  else  must  somehow  be  brought 
into  accord  with  that.  That  truth  inter- 
prets life.  To  the  human  soul  of  Jesus  as 
he  hangs  upon  the  cross,  a  horror  of  great 
darkness  seems  to  envelop  earth  and  sky. 
Death  was  at  that  moment  a  thing  as  un- 
known to  him  as  it  is  to  us.  All  the  dread 
of  the  untried  experience  lay  upon  him. 
He  could  see  no  farther  than  we  can.  But 
somehow  all  is  right.  Over  all  is  the 
Father.  Out  of  it  all  he  looks,  with  seren- 
ity and  faith,  commending  his  spirit  into 
his  Father's  hands. 

It  is  the  word  of  perfect  trust.  Death  is 
no  leap  into  the  dark.  It  is  mysterious 
enough,  and  dreadful  enough,  but  God  is 
on  the  other  side  as  he  is  here.  St.  John  saw 
the  tree  of  life  on  both  sides  of  the  river. 

We  put  our  hand  into  the  hand  of  God, 
and  he  takes  care  of  us;  that  is  what  it 

74 


Zbc  Seventh  Morb 

means,  whether  in  death  or  in  life.  Into 
the  Father's  hands  we  commend  our 
spirit,  with  the  dawn  of  each  new  day; 
into  the  Father's  hands  we  commend  our 
spirit,  when  the  day  is  done,  casting  all 
our  care  on  him  who  careth  for  us.  And 
when  life  is  done,  when  we  look  back  over 
it,  as  Jesus  did,  crying,  "  It  is  finished," 
still  into  the  Father's  hands,  into  his 
hands  who  loves  us,  we  give  ourselves,  as 
Jesus  did. 

And  now  our  watching  beside  the  cross 
is  over.  May  God  bless  the  prayers  of  these 
memorial  hours  to  the  deepening  of  our 
love,  and  the  strengthening  of  our  faith, 
and  the  bettering  of  our  lives ! 

When  the  watch  was  over  at  Calvary, 
and  the  darkness  lifted,  and  the  Saviour 
of  the  world,  with  pierced  side,  hung  dead 
upon  the  cross,  all  the  people  that  came 
together  to  that  sight,  beholding  the 
things  which  were  done,  smote  their 
breasts  and  returned.  As  we  kneel  now  at 
the  end  of  this  service  before  that  blessed 
cross,  let  us  follow  their  example. 

75 


Zbc  Cross  anb  passion 

By  thine  agony  and  bloody  sweat,  by 
thy  cross  and  passion,  by  thy  precious 
death  and  burial,  Good  Lord,  deliver  us. 

0  Lamb  of  God,  who  takest  away  the 
sin  of  the  world,  have  mercy  upon  us! 


76 


Date  Due 


16Si»S(^KtSKm>^ 


BS2425.8.H68 

The  cross  and  passion  :  Good  Friday 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00029  6477 


